Silence was white, and Merry couldn’t get enough of it. Soft flakes floated down from the sky and landed noiselessly on every surface she could see. Her cottage’s porch was more than dusted, but not yet in danger of snowing her in, not that she’d mind. Winter was Merry’s favorite season, and living Alaska meant she got to experience it far more than if she lived elsewhere. She raised her palm and placed it on the chilled pane of glass, the cold seeping into her fingertips and giving her goosebumps. A smile pulled at her lips, and she closed her eyes to feel the chill seep into her bones. Taking a deep breath, she focused on the dewy smell from the condensation on the windows before concentrating on the cinnamon and cloves from her cider bubbling away in the kitchen. The slow an...